


(come to look) for a king

by lipgallagher



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-07 08:16:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17362349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipgallagher/pseuds/lipgallagher
Summary: If Billy knew how to stop looking at Steve, his life would be aloteasier, but he doesn't need to stop looking at Steve right now, because,yeah, he's in the bathtub, but he'snotnaked.Steve is still wearing his boxer briefs and socks and the broken heart BFF necklace that Billy gave him in the fifth grade, so Billy climbs in on the other side of the clawfoot tub, starts to shove Steve's gross socked feet away from his head, ends up grabbing at his right ankle before it hits the copper, like, "Did you fuckingstealmy Batman socks?!"Up close, Steve's lips are red and chapped and still a little swollen from messing around with that girl earlier when they form a perfect circle around the word, "Nope.""You'rewearingthem, you—""Youreallycame in here to rip me a new asshole about socks you lostthree years ago?""Youstolethem from me," Billy points out. "I didn'tlosethem."ALTERNATIVELY: billy and steve have been best friends for a long time.





	(come to look) for a king

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lymricks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lymricks/gifts).



> 1 _modern au_ is a term that here means _this verse starts in 2010._  
>  2a this entire verse is inspired by Someone yelling at me about how several songs i hadnt heard were very strong harringrove anthems and i was like? okay? let me listen to them and that was Months ago and i reconceived the whole thing about 7 times but now here we are so. anyway. hi. this fic isnt my fault, and also, it is very much inspired by a song called _[dress](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JjdjOZvvucw)_.  
> 2b im really sorry about...all of this.

**february 2010**

Billy's not drinking tonight, so the bottle of Blue Moon that Carol gave him on his way inside ended up in Nancy Wheeler's hands pretty fast, but then Nancy gave it to a friend, that tall quiet girl with the ugly glasses and the freckles and one of Billy's blue ballpoint pens.

Like, she's in Billy's Spanish class, and she asked him for a pen once, and Billy felt _extremely_ annoyed about giving it to her, because he _knew_ he would never get it back, and. 

And, just a few minutes ago, Nancy shot Billy a particularly inscrutable look, excused herself to the bathroom and _didn't_ take the other girl with her even though girls are _supposed_ to do that, so Billy ended up chatting her up, remembering that her name was _Barbara_ , listening to her demand, _okay, can you just stop? What, I'm ugly, so I have to be all over you?_

And the worst part was that Billy _wasn't_ even interested in her.

Or.

Okay, _actually_ , the worst part was that he wasn't even interested in  _Nancy_ , but he still looked Barb in the eyes and told her that she was _gorgeous_ , and then he fucked her in the bathroom upstairs, and _he_ came, but he's pretty sure that _she_ didn't, and that's not going to be good for his reputation, but it's not like Billy came to this party for the sake of his _reputation_ , anyway, so.

Billy lies, "That was great," and then he adds, "I have to go find my friend," and then, because girls can get _weird_ about this shit, he goes, "I won't tell anyone about this, okay? Don't worry about it," and he doesn't stick around waiting for her to decide on saying _thanks_ , or saying _fuck you_ , or slapping him across the face, because he doesn't really _know_ her, so he doesn't _really_ know what she's going to do, but girls _aren't_ as creative as they think they are, so they all just do the same shit over and over and _over_. 

That's what boys do, too, for the most part.

There's only _one_ person in the world who keeps Billy on his toes, and Billy hasn't seen him all night, but he's jogging down the staircase, listening to some generic pop song blasting from downstairs, buttoning up his shirt as he goes, when he _stops_ , for a second, because the song cuts out before it's even _over_ , and. 

And Billy starts moving again, because maybe he looks like a mess, but it's _worth_ it, because he made it back to the party _just_ in time to witness something special.

The king has arrived.

Maybe no one actually  _calls_  him that anymore, _King Steve_ , but that's still who he fucking _is_ , and Billy can't see him right away, but he _knows_ that Steve's here, because Steve always says that _party music needs to be good, or there's no point, and everybody should've just stayed the hell at home,_ and there's no music playing when Billy jumps down the last two stairs and rounds the corner into the living room and  _immediately_ spots Steve, standing over by the speakers.

There's no music playing until there _is_ , when Steve lifts a cigarette to his mouth, when that spoken word intro to that incredibly catchy rap song kicks in, like,  _teen drinking is very bad. Yo, I got a fake ID, though_ , and Billy's about to go say hello when he realizes that some random slut has one of her hands down Steve's jeans, like there _aren't_ people watching them, and Steve's just _rolling_ with it, and.

 _Jesus_.

King Steve is a _real_ big cliche.

 

 

 

 

He's lying down in the grass in the backyard when Tommy comes over to ask, "When you gonna stop pussying around and tell Stevie you wanna _fuck_ him, already?"

Billy licks his lips, thinks about punching Tommy in the face, thinks about giving him a kiss, thinks about how Tommy would lose his _shit_ , because he probably doesn't _actually_ think that Billy's gay?

He's just jealous.

He's _always_ been jealous.

He was Steve's friend _first_ , so he feels like Billy fucking  _stole_ something from him, but Billy  _didn't_ , and even if he did, he _wouldn't_ feel bad, because Tommy's a piece of shit, but the point is, Billy's _not_ going to be mocked by some asshole who's _so_ fucking dumb that he has to  _redo his senior year_.

How is Tommy _that_ fucking dumb, _anyway_?

Even _Steve_ didn't have to repeat the twelfth grade. 

Billy laughs humorlessly, watches Tommy get the fucking _message_ and take a few steps back, before he's like, "Suck my _dick_."  

"Yeah." Tommy's lighting a cigarette, scratching at his hair, looking tired as all _hell_ , when he scoffs, " _Whatever_."

Tommy's _clearly_ not that excited to be at this party, even though it's _his_ house that's currently full of the rest of the senior class and a bunch of people who must be going to Hawkins Community this year.

It's a _lot_ of people, and Billy's pretty sure _none_ of them are excited to be here, but he's not about to fucking _say_ that shit, because he's doing this thing, lately, where he tries to play nice with Tommy.

He's _trying_ , but Tommy's _not_ making it easy for him, so when Carol joins them to push a drink into Tommy's hands, Billy takes the out, gets up, goes looking for a quiet spot where he can sulk _without_ being harassed.

 

 

 

 

Steve's a big fucking cliche, so he comes outside still buttoning up his jeans, stealing Billy's cigarette away from him, letting his face settle into a scowl as soon as he realizes it's a menthol.

"How come you don't want me to have _fun_ , Billy?"

Billy tries to focus on pushing himself back and forth on Tommy's parents' garden swing, but a _lot_ of his attention ends up going toward sneering, "You sure  _looked_ like you were having fun,  _King Steve_. Back on the fucking _throne_ —"

"Shut _up_ ," Steve groans, and maybe Billy's paranoid, but. _Maybe_ Steve's voice sounds thick, like maybe his teeth called in sick tonight, so his mouth is full of nothing but tired lazy irritation. " _Don't_ be a dickhead, okay? You're the one who _made_ me come here—"

"Yeah, I _did_ , 'cause Tommy  _only_ invited me so I would bring _you_ with me, and—"

"Oh,  _Jesus_ , come  _on_ , Billy, that's some fucking  _bullshit_ —"

" _Is_ it, or is it, like,  _totally_ fucking true? That guy is  _still_ in love with you—"

"No one's in  _love_ with me, and definitely not  _Tommy_ , okay?" Steve laughs, " _Shit_ , I literally never met  _anybody_ who wanted to fuck me less than  _Tommy_ does!"

What does that  _mean_ , though?

Does that mean that he thinks  _Billy_ wants to fuck him?

If that  _is_ what Steve thinks, then it's not like he's  _wrong_ , but.

_Fuck_.

Okay, sure, it's not like it's coming out of nowhere, because it's not like Billy's _never_ hit on Steve?

He hits on Steve _all the time_.

Or.

Billy _used_ to hit on Steve all the time, but the last time he did, it was his seventeenth birthday, and Steve let Billy kiss him, and he listened when Billy told him how pretty he was, but then he dragged Billy into his kitchen so he could hand him an oversized cupcake that had a candle shaped like the letter _B_ stuck on top of it before he sent Billy home, and.

And Billy got home, where he listened to Dad yell about how he wanted to send Billy to conversion camp, where he went into his room to be scared and pissed off and _alone_ , where he checked his phone and answered a text from his mom and ignored one from Max and obsessively overanalyzed one from Steve that read,  _happy bday srsly b your my best friend_

Billy wasn't sure what _that_ had to do with anything, but they haven't talked about it since that night, even though Billy's only two months away from being eighteen, so that was almost a whole fucking _year_ ago?

It's been a year, and he _still_ doesn't know if Steve's even _sort of_ into him, but.

He needs to know.

He _needs_ to know, because Billy doesn't want to keep being best friends with Steve.

Or.

He _does_.

He does, but he wants _more_ than that, too, and he's never going to be able to _say_ that, like,  _hey, bro, I don't just want to be friends with you_ , or,  _I think about kissing you every night before I fall asleep_ , or maybe,  _remember when we used to practice kissing on each other? It's like that, but it's also not._

Steve wraps both of his arms around Billy, does more of that _no homo_ super-tactile best friends shit that Billy loves to hate, as he offers, "Want me to take you home?" 

Honestly?

Not _really_.

It's Saturday night, and tomorrow's Valentine's Day, and Billy's supposed to take Max out for the day so that Dad can fuck Susan as loud as he wants, so _that's_ going to be exhausting, and Billy doesn't want to risk overhearing them fucking around in advance _tonight_ , so he shrugs.

"Let's go to your place." 

"Uh, yeah, but, um. _Like_. My _dad's_ home, and—" 

" _Jesus_. The _balls_ on him, Harrington, it's like. Shit! I mean, it's _almost_ like it's _his_ _house_ , that _he_ owns, and—" 

"Ha-ha," Steve's like, dryly. " _No_ , I mean. He's _pissed_ at me, 'cause I fucked up pretty bad yesterday, kinda, so—" 

" _You_ did? _Wow_ ," Billy gasps, like he's shocked, even though he _absolutely_ isn't, and _Steve's_ the one who started touching _him_ , but now he's shoving Billy away from him as he stalks toward the driveway, and it's _embarrassing_ , but Billy doesn't even hesitate for a _second_ before he heads after him, because Steve never _used_ to do it, but then he got his drivers license, and he started leaving Billy behind _all the time_ , or.

Maybe that's unfair?

After all, _Billy's_ the one who's always leaving, in a way that's a lot more real, in a way that puts an _impossible_  amount of distance between them, in a way that's not exactly permanent but _could_ be, but Billy doesn't do that because he _wants_ to leave Steve.

He's _never_ wanted to do that.

But Steve's not like Billy.

Steve turned sixteen and a half, got his license, and started abandoning Billy to take girls on dates to movies he would've seen with _Billy_ before, and then to go on weekend trips with Tommy and Carol to check out colleges, and then. 

And then he graduated out of Hawkins High, and he just fucking _left_ , and he didn't try to talk to Billy while he was gone, except for when he sent texts that Billy ignored, and wrote letters that Billy never opened, and left one voicemail that Billy felt fucked up and filthy and _bad_ for listening to, even though all Steve said was, _listen, buddy, I'm sorry, but it's not like I could take you with me? I'm real sorry I didn't tell you, though, but I guess I thought you were gonna talk me out of it, and I had to do it, like. Like for me, you know? I had to leave, and. I don't know when, but I'm coming back, okay? And, like, when you're eighteen, we can go wherever you want. Not like this, 'cause this trip is killing me, so, like. I'll take you somewhere on a plane, you know? No driving all day, and no cheap motels, 'cause I swear, I got fleas in my hair last week, and, like. Yeah. It'll be great. Just, fucking. Please talk to me, man? I'm so sorry. Don't hate me._

But Billy is never going to be able to hate Steve.

It's not the natural order of things.

_Everyone_ knows that. 

Billy and Steve are a package deal.

Billy and Steve do everything together.

Billy and Steve are _best friends_.

" _Fine_ , you can come over. I don't got anything happening tomorrow, anyway, do you?"

"I have to babysit."

" _Boo_ , you _whore_ ," Steve whines, starts his car, stares sulkily up at Billy when Billy pulls Steve's keys out of the BMW and gets to work on forcing him into the passenger seat. "Max is too fucking _old_ for a babysitter."

"She  _is_ too old to need a babysitter," Billy agrees, because it's fucking _true_ , but. " _You're_ older than Max." 

"You're not babysitting _me_ ; you're my _best friend_."

It would be easy to take that for what it is, and then just move on with his life. 

It would be so _fucking_ easy.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

Instantly, Steve turns his head to give Billy a fucking _blinding_ grin, when he's like, "I want those pink chocolate pancakes you make."

"Red velvet."

" _Whatever_ you gotta call it to feel good about it, like. _Yeah_? I don't _care_."

Billy rolls his eyes, settles into the front seat, prompts, "And  _what_ do we say when we want something, Stevie?" 

And he put Steve into the passenger seat, but Billy didn't buckle him in, so _now_ he has to deal with the way that Steve's leaning over the console to press a kiss into Billy's cheek, before he breathes out over it, in a voice that's somehow fucking  _frustratingly_ sexy, " _Please_ , Billy?" 

 

 

 

 

**january 2010**

"I'm thinking I'm gonna fuck Nancy Wheeler this semester."

Steve snorts milk out of his nose.

" _Uh_ , you're _not_ , man." 

"Fuck _you_ , Harrington," Billy snaps. "You're not the fucking _boss_ of me." 

"Oh my God, I didn't even _say_. I. _Billy_ , you can fuck _whoever_ you want!" 

"Obviously—"

" _Obviously_ ," and Steve shakes his head, smiles, finishes, " _Yeah_ , but. She's not your _type_ , B." 

Billy's actually _really_ into deceptively scary brunettes, but.

Steve doesn't know that.

" _You_ don't know that."

Steve rolls his eyes and leans over the table to steal a bite of Billy's French toast, then chews, swallows, smacks a _real_ gross kiss onto Billy's cheekbone before he's declaring, "I'mma wait for you people for _two_ more minutes, and then I'm _gone_." 

Billy watches him walk out of the house like he's _not_ worried about having to walk to school.

He totally fucking _is_ worried about that, though, because his Camaro has been given the bleak Midwestern midwinter kiss of death, and Billy doesn't know enough about cars to fix it by himself, and he doesn't have the money to get it looked at by a professional, and Dad's not here to pay for it, and if Billy asks _Mom_ for money, she _will_ send it to him, but she'll want to know why Dad isn't taking care of it, and then Dad will be pissed at Billy when he gets back, so it's nice that Steve's willing to drive him around. 

It felt like a charity thing, at first, but.

It's cool now.

It's a little bit like reliving junior year, and junior year was a pretty good time. 

Well.

_Billy_ had a good time, at least.

Some people weren't so fortunate.

He shoves the last few bites of food into his mouth, grabs his satchel off of Max's empty chair, goes to hammer on her door until she yanks it open, bitching, "I _hate_ you, Billy; what the _fuck_?! It's _6:45_."

"Yeah, and Steve has work at 7:30, so let's fucking _go_ —"

"What's your _problem_? You scared he's gonna _leave_ us here again?"

Billy narrows his eyes into a glare.

He fucking _hates_  his sister.

"That was _your_ fault—"

"Uh, really?! _How_ , 'cause _you_ spent an extra twenty minutes deep conditioning your hair, for _no reason_ , so, like, _yeah_ , that slowed me down!" Outside, Steve hits the horn on his BMW, and Billy starts thinking that he might have to use Max's _full name_ , or something, to impress upon her how fucking _vital_ it is that he ends up in that car this morning, but. Max must have one of her geek club meetings to get to, because she's quick about pulling her backpack onto her shoulders, grabbing her skateboard, sighing, "Your boyfriend's _way_ too impatient, Billy." 

 

 

 

 

Steve's not Billy's boyfriend. 

He's _not_ , but Max was so young when they moved that she doesn't even remember living in California, and Steve decided that Billy was going to be his best friend on Billy's _very_ first day at Hawkins Elementary School, so, as far as _she_ knows, Steve's _always_ been around, and. 

Okay, Steve _has_ been around a lot, ever since they were both in Ms Wertzmann's mixed class, the one that was full of slightly-advanced second graders and third graders who needed a little bit of extra help.

Tommy had a different teacher, so Steve was bored enough to talk to Billy right away, all like, _sometimes people call me Stevie, but I don't like it, okay? You gotta call me Steve if you wanna be my friend_ , and most of that year was a blur, but Billy still remembers _that_ shit like it was _yesterday_.

He remembers saying he didn't _want_ to be Steve's friend, and he remembers Steve telling him, _Billy's a baby name, anyways_ , and he remembers pushing Steve on the playground _twice_ during recess, because he was lonely and mad and _seven_.

He was _only_ seven years old, so Billy didn't realize that he had done something that the school would be _obligated_ to call home about until he was already kicking his chair back on its heels in the principal's office. 

Susan showed up first, holding onto Max who was too tiny to do anything but cry and eventually nap while they were all waiting for Steve's parents to show up, because school policy meant that they couldn't talk shit about what Billy did without a parent or guardian there to keep him from being traumatized by Steve's surely infuriated parents, but it _also_ meant that they couldn't have Steve talk shit about what Billy did without _his_ parents there to keep _him_ from being traumatized by Billy's surely _protective_ parents, so.

They were all waiting around for a long ass time, before Max woke up and started crying again, and Steve cleared his throat and went, _um, Billy didn't do anything, I just made it up, 'cause I wanted to skip reading time, 'cause I'm bad at it, but I'm real sorry about it._

And, in hindsight, everyone must have fucking  _known_  that Steve was lying, but they had been waiting around for _hours_ , so the principal just apologized to Susan, and said that Billy could leave, and sent Steve to the library to wait for his parents to pick him up.

Or.

That's where he was _supposed_ to go, but when Billy was getting into the car, he spotted Steve sitting down in the parking lot, irritably trying to force the thick cotton of his black and yellow _Jurassic Park_ sweatshirt into his backpack, looking like somebody who was about to try to walk home and was feeling  _real_ pissed off about it, and Susan didn't think it was a good idea, but she gave in as soon as Billy started to raise his voice, because Max had _just_  gone back to sleep, and she didn't want her to wake up again. 

When Susan parked in the Harrington's driveway, she was like, _do you want to come play at our house for a little bit? It looks like nobody's home, sweetie_ , and. 

And when Steve went, _no, thanks_ , he seemed surprised, like he _really_ thought he was going to be allowed to just hang around his empty house by himself when no one had been able to reach his mom and dad  _all day_ , but he didn't cry, or anything, when Susan made him come to their place and eat Goldfish crackers before dinner, and.

_Now_ , Steve's _not_ Billy's boyfriend, but.

Steve knows that Billy just ate, and he _still_ drives Max and Billy to Dunkin Donuts to get them breakfast, and then he takes Max to school, and then he aims a bored smile at Billy when he's dropping him off on the left side of the building where his locker is.

Billy is only halfway up the stairs when cars start honking behind him, and when he turns, he sees that the BMW is still running, but Steve's not in it, because he's catching Billy in a loose hug, smelling like coffee and powdered sugar and Eau Sauvage, going, "Hey, hold up; you forgot this. What's  _up_ with you?"

Billy takes his iced coffee, works his lips around the orange straw, swallows down a tiny sip that chills him to his fucking  _bones_ because it's, like,  _twenty degrees_  out here, which is the reason Billy left his drink in the car in the  _first_ place, but.

But Steve  _knows_ that.

"Seriously, though." He shoots Billy a patronizing grin when he's like, "How you feeling, B?"

" _Fuck_ you, Harrington." Billy scowls, turns, gets back to climbing the front steps so he can get inside where there's central heating, so that maybe he won't  _die_. "You little  _bitch_. I  _hate_ you."

"I love you,  _too_ , man!" Steve shouts after him, "Have a  _great_ day!"

 

 

 

 

Billy makes it through Spanish, through Calculus, through Gym, but as he's walking out of the locker room, someone falls into step with him, saying, "Gonna be hosting a little kickback for Valentine's, if you're down."

This is the first Billy's hearing about this, but he _still_ knows that that's _not_ entirely true, so he corrects, " _Carol's_ having a party, at _your_ house. Like, _that's_ what you're trying to tell me, Thomas?"

" _That's_ what I'm telling you, _Will_. You wanna be there, or be _square_ , bro."

Billy's definitely fucking _not_ going to be there, because he's pretty sure that Lent starts a few days before Valentine's Day this year, and Billy has already decided to give up drinking, so there's _no_ point in going to a party full of drunk underage hicks who are largely just _pretending_ to like him. 

"But, _hey_ ," Tommy adds, like he _just_ thought of it, like it's _not_ the entire reason he flagged Billy down, like he hasn't always been obvious as _shit_ about having a crush on Steve. "Bring your boyfriend, okay? The King doesn't come out to play, anymore, man. We've all been missing him." 

"He's not my boyfriend," _and you fucking know it, you jealous little fuck_ , Billy thinks, but. Okay, it's _petty_ , but he _could_ go to Carol's party, and suffer through it, sober as the proverbial fucking judge, just to remind Tommy that Billy has something that he'll never have. That has Billy's name written all over it. _Just_ like Steve does. "But we'll be there."

 

 

 

 

Before Steve left town, his dad had a job lined up for him, a job where even though he was just an under-qualified _kid_ , Steve was going to have an assistant and an office and _power_.

Billy's never said this out loud, because he knows it's a little too mean for him to get away with it, and, even if he _said_ it, he would never say it to Steve's _face_ , but Billy knows that the main reason Steve skipped out of Hawkins right after he graduated was to avoid taking that job.

He always _hated_ being the Harrington's son, being the Keg King of Hawkins High, having anything _close_ to power, so it made sense when he rolled back through Indiana and found himself a job scooping ice cream and wiping down tables and making the occasional malted milkshake, because it's a job where he has no power at _all_.

He makes minimum wage, he's replaceable, he's _nothing_ , and he's not even _happy_ about it.

Billy can _tell_.

If Steve was happy, maybe it would be different, but it's _not_ different, so it makes Billy feel physically fucking _sick_  every time he thinks about Steve wasting his life like that.

He hasn't said _that_ out loud, either, but Steve should still be able to tell that Billy feels that way, because he's Billy's _best friend_.

But it's clear that Steve _can't_ tell, because he picks Billy up after basketball practice, with Max already chilling in the car, and Steve's in jeans, but he's still wearing the top half of his work uniform, and Max is picking at a plain waffle cone, talking excitedly about something and fucking _immediately_ losing her voice when Billy pulls the back door open, as if Billy fucking _cares_ about her boring middle school gossip.

He has more important shit to think about, like how he  _hates_  sitting in the backseat.

Steve takes shotgun rules very seriously, though, so trying to force Max out of the passenger seat would be a waste of Billy's time.

He spreads out, pillows his head on Steve's gym bag, stares up at the ceiling of the BMW.

It's not _much_ of a positive, but at least he only feels _mildly_ nauseous when the car starts moving, when the intense vanilla-sugar-ice cream cone scent hits him real hard, when Steve turns on the radio and that Soulja Boy song starts, like,  _you know I miss you, I just wanna kiss you, but I can't right now so, baby, kiss me through the phone._

Billy _hates_ this song, and he _hates_ that smell because it reminds him of how much he hates that Steve has that fucking _job_ , and he _hates_  throwing up, but he thinks he might be getting carsick.

But it'll be okay.

Nothing lasts forever, not even annoying shit like this.

 

 

 

 

The phone rings at 7:54.

Billy's spent the past few hours ignoring Steve via text _and_ Facebook, and Steve always acts like he's going to _die_ without attention, so. 

This makes _sense_ , but that doesn't stop it from being obnoxious.

" _Hi_ , Harrington."

"Hey, dickbreath," Steve greets him. "So, listen, man: I just checked, and Nancy's on _my_ list." 

"What?" 

"Remember when we split up all the cute girls we knew? _You_ got a list, and _I_ got a list? She's on mine," and, fuck, yeah, _okay_ , Billy remembers drafting those lists, but Steve's in for a _hell_ of a surprise if he thinks Billy's _actually_ been exclusively sticking to the girls on his list? He fucked his way through all of those girls by sophomore year, except for Heather Davies, but that was only because she moved away to Iowa. Billy's _definitely_ fucked a few of Steve's girls by now. "Not yours, so you _can't_  go out with her."

Billy rolls his eyes, smiles at Susan who's giving him a mildly interested look from over the top of her latest book club novel, lies into the phone, "But I _really_ want to."

"But _I_ said _no_ ," Steve's like, easy as anything. "So that's that." 

This isn't a big deal. 

This shit happens, sometimes, when Steve misses having power over everybody the way he did back when he was _King Steve_ , and if he would _admit_ it, that he's _only_ saying that Billy can't go after Nancy because Steve needs to feel like he can _control_ something because the rest of his life is falling apart, Billy would be cool with it?

But Steve _isn't_ admitting that, so he's not giving Billy a lot of room to work with.

Billy holds a hand over the phone when he asks, "Can you take me and Max to school in the morning?" 

"Sure? Of _course_ , but. Is everything okay? I mean, is _Stevie_ okay?"

"Yeah, he's good," and then, right before Billy hangs up on him, he tells Steve, "I don't need you to pick me up tomorrow." 

Like she's fucking _deaf_ now, or something, Susan's like, "Steve's doing alright?"

"Yep." All she does is nod, so Billy finds himself sighing, falling down onto the couch next to her, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table as he tries, "What's, um. _Eclipse_ about, again?"

"Vampires," Susan says, without even an _ounce_ of shame in her voice, even though she has no reason to be reading about vampires, because she's, like, _thirty-six_.

"You give me the fucking _creeps_ , Susan."

She rests a hand on his forearm, gives him a _big_ smile, goes, " _Thank_ you, Billy."

It sounds a lot like _fuck you_ , but it's not like Billy can _say_ that without sounding paranoid, and he doesn't need Susan telling Dad that Billy seems paranoid, and then Dad telling Mom that she needs to send Billy back to therapy, and then Mom treating him like he's a fucking _feral animal_ the next time she sees him.

Billy _doesn't_ need that shit.

It sucked last time.

He tries to be casual about turning on the TV, but he fucks it up, because the latest episode of Mom's sitcom is starting, and, in the recap of last week's episode, her character is telling her kid,  _I love you; you can tell me anything_ , and.

Billy goes to bed.

 

 

 

 

It costs Billy four days of radio silence, but then Steve's crawling in through his bedroom window around midnight, spooning up behind him in bed, urging Billy to wake up with words like, "Oh my _God_ , stop _pouting_ about it, you can _have_ Nancy Wheeler, okay? What the hell do _I_ care? I _only_ like blondes, and you _know_ it."

Billy spits, "Be _quiet_ ; my _dad's_ home," and then he continues, "Tommy's having a party real soon, and you're going to come with me," and then, once Steve's nodding agreeably into his neck, Billy adds, "If you get a boner like this, I'm kicking you out of my bed."

There's a heavy moment where he thinks that Steve is already asleep, but then Steve whines, " _B_ , that is _so_ unfair, 'cause, like, _I'd_ never do that to _you_."

It's _true_ that Steve's never kicked him out over something like that, but Billy's pretty sure it's just because he's never _noticed_ that Billy gets hard at least once during  _all_ of their sleepovers, so it's not really the same thing.

"I _mean_ it: you can sleep on the floor like the _bitch_ you fucking _are_ ," and Billy can't see it, but he _feels_ Steve's eyelashes fluttering over his neck, like maybe Steve's settling in to sleep, or.

Maybe he's rolling his eyes?

He does that around Billy a lot.

He doesn't take Billy _seriously_.

 

 

 

 

**february 2010**

When they get upstairs, Steve's dad is in his bedroom with the light on and the door closed, so Steve dispatches Billy to go steal a bottle of his booze, because,  _you still got gym class every day, so you're faster than me_ , which is just Steve's typically lazy bullshit, but it doesn't stop Billy from opening up the liquor cabinet in the study and pulling out the sealed bottle of Jägermeister that's been in there for years _._  

When he's in Hawkins, Billy spends more time in this house than he does in Dad's house, so he doesn't usually feel too weird about taking things, but, tonight, his throat goes dry when he steps into the hall and _immediately_ makes eye contact with Steve's dad, who's heading toward the study with his phone held to his ear, humming blankly as he rolls his eyes at Billy, lifting two of his fingers to his own head and miming blowing his brains out.

He doesn't even _glance_ at the bottle in Billy's hands, and it's not _really_ funny, but Billy thinks he's going to laugh, anyway?

He holds back his laughter until he's safely in Steve's desk chair, pretty far away from where Steve's standing in front of his mirror, eyeing Billy like he thinks he's gone crazy again, before he gets back to rubbing olive oil serum into his hair.

Billy's about to tell Steve what happened, just so he'll seem a little _less_ crazy, but it's like he loses the ability to fucking _speak_ when Steve strips off his long-sleeved T-shirt, starts unbuttoning his jeans, wonders, "You gonna sleep here, man?"

Billy's mouth won't open, not even when Steve has kicked off his jeans and sat down on top of his desk in front of Billy, and.

_Okay_.

Most of the time, Billy _knows_ that he's just a little too hopeful, that Steve's _not_ interested in him, that Steve would just fucking _tell_ Billy if he wanted him like that. 

That's _most_ of the time.

There are times when Billy is _sure_ that Steve's teasing him on _purpose_ , and this is one of those times, because Steve's cock is _right_ in front of Billy's fucking _face_ , covered in the thin layer of fabric that is his boxer briefs, and Billy's never seen these before, but they're holiday appropriate, so they're probably brand new.

They're covered in candy conversation hearts, so Billy has _options_. 

He can stare at the pale pink heart that reads  _KISS ME_ that's on Steve's right thigh, or he can drool over the yellow one on the left that reads  _XOXO_ , or he can focus in on the one right in between them that reads  _LOVER BOY_.

Maybe there's something in the water in Hawkins again, because Billy wants to blow _his_ fucking brains out now, _too_.

Like, he wants to blow Steve, _obviously_ , but he _also_ wants to blow his brains out. 

There's probably a special place in hell for people like Billy, who are pretty sure they could con their semi-innocent slightly-drunk mostly-naked best friend into a blowjob if they fed him a few more shots of Jäger.

"Hey, are you _alive_ , Hargrove?" When Billy nods, Steve nods back, shoots him a puzzled little smile, tugs the bottle out of Billy's hands, like, "Think you gotta be _real_ fucked up. Go to bed, okay? I gotta take a shower, but I'll come back."

Billy hasn't had anything to drink tonight.

He goes to bed, anyway.

He _does_ feel fucked up.

 

 

 

 

When Steve was nine, when Billy was eight, when they weren't in the same class anymore but Steve still sat with _Billy_ at lunch instead of _Tommy_ , Steve's parents bought him a new bedframe, and Billy slept over the night it was assembled, because Steve had separation anxiety about getting rid of the old one. 

Billy remembers that phrase, _separation anxiety_ , because that's exactly what Steve's mom said when she drove Billy home from Little League the day before, like, _Steven is experiencing some mild separation anxiety, and I think he'll feel a lot better if you're there, don't you?_

And, shit, yeah, _fine_ , Billy appreciates being spoken to like an adult _now_ , but. 

Jesus Christ?

He was _eight years old_. 

As everyone _knew_ he would, Steve fucking _hated_ the new bed, even when his parents told him that Billy was going to sleep over, even when his mom let them have two Capri Suns each at dinnertime, even when they went upstairs after dinner and saw that the bedsheets were elaborately draped over the bed like it was a playhouse.

Steve did a lot of subvocal sulking about it, so Billy ended up pulling out his tiny Swiss Army knife and carving Steve's initials into the side of one of the bedposts, up by the wall, so his parents would be less likely to see it, because he thought it would inspire a sense of ownership in Steve, and it _did_ , but.

Then, Steve said, _do yours, too, so we can share it._

Billy's coming up on eighteen, now, so that was _ten years ago_ , and he's in bed, looking up at his initials pushed in under Steve's, and he feels. 

He feels fucking _weird_.

Being in love with Steve doesn't usually feel like this.

Billy feels like he's done something  _bad_ , and.

And he didn't tell Dad that he was staying out all night, because he _knew_ he wouldn't get away with it, so he should just go home.

If he leaves now, while Steve's still in the bathroom, it won't be a big deal.

Billy sneaks out of Steve's house more often than he sneaks out of _both_ of his parent's houses.

Sometimes, Steve's dad catches him on his way out and reminds Billy how to set the alarm before he leaves, but that's it. 

Sometimes, Steve's mom catches him on his way out and asks Billy if he and Steve had a fight, like she thinks they're still little kids, but that's it. 

_Sometimes_ , though?

Well.

Sometimes, Billy is halfway down the driveway when he hears Steve yelling his name, and then, not _sometimes_ , but in fact, _every_   _single time_ , Billy stops, looks up, and Steve's on top of the roof, staring down at Billy like _he's_ the one acting insane, telling him to come back inside because _it's getting real cold out here, buddy_ , or _you wanna go for a drive? I wanna hit Lake Michigan_ , or _you gotta make me some of those pancakes you do, 'cause you fucking know I don't know how_.

If Billy's leaving, he has to do it _now_ , before Steve comes back, because Steve's _not_ going to let him leave, but Billy _has_ to babysit Max tomorrow, so he gets out of bed, laces up his boots, pats down his pockets for his wallet, his keys, his.

_Oh_.

Oh, what the _fuck_. 

 

 

 

 

"What the _fuck_ is your problem, Harrington?"

" _Oh_ my God! Can you stop fucking _looking_ at me, please?! I'm _naked_  in here!"

Who the fuck does he think he's _talking_ to?

If Billy  _knew_ how to stop looking at Steve, his life would be a _lot_ easier, but he doesn't  _need_ to stop looking at Steve right now, because, _yeah_ , he's in the bathtub, but he's _not_ naked.

Steve is still wearing his boxer briefs and socks and the broken heart BFF necklace that Billy gave him in the fifth grade, so Billy climbs in on the other side of the clawfoot tub, starts to shove Steve's gross socked feet away from his head, ends up grabbing at his right ankle before it hits the copper, like, "Did you fucking _steal_ my Batman socks?" 

Up close, Steve's lips are red and chapped and still a little swollen from messing around with that girl earlier when they form a perfect circle around the word, " _Nope_."

"You're  _wearing_ them, you—"

"You _really_ came in here to rip me a new asshole about socks you lost _three years ago_?!"

"You _stole_ them from me," Billy points out. "I didn't _lose_ them. Why the hell would you want _used socks_ , anyway?"

For the first time since Billy walked in here, Steve meets his eyes as he grins, shrugs, says, "Maybe I got a fetish."

"Yeah, but you _don't_." 

"Oh,  _okay_." Steve shrugs again. "I _don't_."

He's right about how the socks don't really matter, because Billy _was_ pissed off when he thought he lost them, but that was _years_ ago, and.

And it's _not_ why he came in here.

"Where the fuck did you put my phone?" 

"Someplace where I can keep it  _safe_." 

_Jesus_.

Steve is drunker than Billy thought he was.

"I need to go _home_  now, Steve."

Steve counters, " _I_ need you to sleep over." 

"I _have_ to go home. My dad—"

" _Fuck_ him! I, like, literally don't give a _shit_ about Neil Hargrove, and _you_ shouldn't, _either_ , and." Steve pulls his legs away from Billy, sits up and back, leans forward to hold Billy's face in his hands. "Billy, you're _so_. I. Man, I _love_ you."

If the next words out of his mouth are  _no homo_ , Billy's going to _drown_ him, and that's going to be difficult, because there's no water in the tub, but Billy still feels fairly confident in his ability to make it work?

Or.

He feels confident until the point where Steve lets him go, launches over the edge of the tub to get the Jägermeister up off of the floor, slips when he's trying to sit back down and ends up halfway in Billy's lap, spilling booze all over _both_ of them, mumbling, " _Ouch_."

Conversationally, Billy tells him, "I hate you."

It _could_ be a correction, but it sounds more like a request when Steve yawns, " _Love_ me. And I love _you_ , and you're gonna _stay_ with me, 'cause you _love_ _me_."

" _No_ , Stevie." It's a lie, but he repeats, "I _hate_ you."

Steve buries half of a laugh in Billy's hair, sits up a little more to drain what's left in the Jäger bottle, slams his eyes shut when the distinct sound of an alarm set to remind someone that it's midnight so maybe they should head home starts blaring from the medicine cabinet.

Steve hid Billy's phone in the _medicine cabinet_?

What a _fucking_ moron.

Billy pulls off his booze-soaked shirt on his way out of the bathtub, because he already _knows_ that there's no way in hell he's walking into Dad's house this late at night, smelling like he went for a swim in a pool full of alcohol, and _not_ getting smacked around, and. 

And he pockets his phone, pauses to grab one of his sleep shirts out of Steve's closet, doubles back to knock a fist on the bathroom door, like, "Bathtime's over, King Steve; I got to go, and—"

And Steve leans halfway out of the tub, beckons Billy closer, whispers, "Yeah, no, _okay_ , but, like. Come here, man, real quick, just. Yeah. _Yeah_ , come here. Gonna tell you a secret." 

 

 

 

 

That night when Steve got his new bed, there was a moment where they were curled up together in the dark, and Billy had thought that Steve was done being upset, but then he suddenly whispered,  _I know it's bad now, but I wanna keep it, anyways_ , and he cried until his mom came into the room, turned on the lights, sounded _highly_ fucking disinterested in hearing an answer after she asked them if they had a fight.

In hindsight, Steve was being a little bit annoying?

In _hindsight_ , but.

At the _time_ , Billy was fucking _outraged_ , so he called his mom the next day to ask if she knew how adoption worked, and, in _hindsight_ , that must have scared the _shit_ out of her, but he didn't want to know about Susan adopting him, or anything like that.

Billy just wanted to know if _he_ could adopt _Steve_ , so that he could take care of him, because it seemed like nobody else knew what they were doing.

_Yeah_ , the old bed _was_ trash, but Steve was attached to it, so Steve's mom could have at least _pretended_ to care when he went,  _but it's my trash, Mama! You can't take it away from me, 'cause it's mine!_

Honestly, to _Billy_ , that _still_ feels like a solid argument.

That night, the bed felt fucking _huge_ , but it seems a lot smaller now that Billy's staring down at Steve sprawled out over it, with his blankets kicked down low around his ridiculously long legs, covering up Billy's old Batman socks.

It's _crazy_ , because, when he was a kid, Billy  _never_ would have believed that tiny little Stevie would be six feet tall someday.

But he wouldn't have believed a _lot_ of things about Steve.

Steve leaves Billy behind now, and Billy never would have believed that he would do _that_ , right?

If anything about Steve is the same as it used to be, though, it's the way that Steve still wants to hang onto all of his shit so that no one can take it away from him.

Steve has _one_ pair of sunglasses, he uses _one_ brand of haircare products, he owns _five_ pairs of Nike sneakers, but they're all the exact same kind, and most of them are stacked up in his closet, where three pairs are waiting to be worn when he wears out the current ones, and the first pair are up on the top shelf with the rest of Steve's leftover high school trash.

Yearbooks, swimming medals, basketball trophies.

The cheap Valentine's cards that flooded out of his locker every February, old movie tickets, the notes Billy came up with to help Steve prep for his in-class essays.

The lyrics to a song Billy wrote in detention and signed because Steve said he would sell it for a lot of money once Billy was famous like his mom, those beat-up white-and-blue Nikes, the photo that someone took on a disposable camera at a party the night after Steve got his first tattoo.

It's _all_ trash, but Billy knows that Steve is _never_ going to get rid of any of it, and that's almost comforting.

What _isn't_ comforting is when Steve starts doing unbelievable shit, like going behind Billy's back after he  _said_  that Billy could go out with Nancy.

Billy didn't actually _want_  her, but _Steve_ didn't know that, and he  _said_  Billy could have her, a lot like he _said_ that he didn't have anything going on tomorrow, a little like he _said_ he had a secret for Billy.

He _did_  have one, but the secret wasn't anything he had words for, because it was a _kiss_.

It was a deep soft wet kiss that Billy didn't put a lot of work into, because he couldn't figure out what the hell was going _on_ until it was already over, when Steve pushed away from him and slurred, _okay, I'm. I gotta go to bed, B. Can you take me to bed? You could come with me_ , and Steve's a good boy, more or less, so he never fucks around on girls when he _really_ likes them, and that means that even when he was kissing Billy, Steve fucking _knew_  that they weren't going to do anything else, because maybe he didn't want to tell Billy about it, but.

Steve has a date tomorrow, doesn't he?

That's the _truth_ , right?

Billy's not getting paranoid again, _is_ he?

No.

_No_ , he's _not_ , because.

He can _prove_ this, because Billy is done punching the code into the Harrington's alarm system and is grabbing his leather jacket off of the table closest to the front door when he stops.

He _stops_ , because he can see something weird, half-hidden under the bulk of the gray coat Steve wore to the party tonight.

When he lifts the coat, he _still_ feels like he's looking at something that doesn't make any sense, this glitter-riddled cloud of blush-pink tissue paper stuffed into a small crimson gift bag, and Billy doesn't check to see what's _inside_ of the bag, because, _Jesus_ , he doesn't fucking _care_ , but he can't stop himself from reading the tag that's hanging off of the bag, with hand-drawn gold Sharpie hearts all over it, surrounding the name _NANCY_

**Author's Note:**

> [im on tumblr here if you want to be bffs!](http://midgemaisell.tumblr.com/)  
>   
> fic title from _dancing queen_ by abba.  
> theres a steve pov fic in this verse to be posted Soon if anyone liked this one? idk. let me know.


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